


Ashes, Ashes

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Secret Life of Us (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-18
Updated: 2003-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is a fairly adequate summary, really. Set during 'Weird Species Man'. I *HEART* Simon/Richie. Maybe it's the angst. Theirloveissocanonandangstyandallthatshiznit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes, Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> The Secret Life of Us characters belong to Southern Star Endemol and Channel Ten.

I personally think that marijuana is preferable to beer. It doesn't make me feel like I need to vomit, it makes me laugh quite a lot, and aside from the atrociously red eyes, it hardly shows to the outside eye. Beer makes your breath stink; it makes kissing nasty, if your partner happens to have been drinking. Smoking weed, now, that's different. There's little aftertaste and what there is is pleasant in a not-beer sort of way. Of course, it's difficult to explain one's drug preferences after liberal consumption of said drug, especially when Richie reminds us all _Beer and grass, you're on your arse; grass and beer, you're in the clear_. We all started drinking first, smoking second, and nothing's clear.

The last log on the fire flumps in half, making me jump, making the others laugh. Soft grey ashes puff up where the broken log hits the ground, falling from its precarious position atop a couple of bricks. The ashes, of course, remind me of why we're out here, in this particular spot, rather than anywhere else in Victoria.

Evan and Christian are bickering. Christian has little-boy good looks, but unfortunately the personality that comes with the package matches the face. Petulant, pouting lower lip. He has a habit of tugging on the ends of his curls when he's agitated. Evan, on the other hand, is relaxed, firing comebacks like a lazy cannon, until Christian mentions Alex and all hell breaks loose.

Peacemaking is the hardest task; perhaps that's why I, as the wise old barman, have to do it. All I want to do is go to bed, but things seem to settle down. Thank God for that bloody wombat; without it, there wouldn't be anything to funnel jokes from, and things might blow up.

* * *

Richie's back is smooth by lantern light, unlike his scruff-haired chest. I lie in bed and he pretends not to notice that I am watching him. We talk, a little, before he crawls into his sleeping bag. Then we talk more, after he begins to complain about the light.

I see no reason for him to complain about the light. It makes him look good -- of course, he doesn't need either good lighting or good drugs to improve his looks. He has perfect dark puppy-dog eyes, I don't know why he needs the stupid dog costume on that TV show. He could whimper at me anytime and I'd let him in the back door, so to speak.

Eventually, I turn the lantern down, and Richie sleeps. I watch his face for a little while as the mantle cools, then shut the lantern off entirely, closing my eyes against the darkness.

* * *

Finally I have him where I want him. We stare out over the rainforest valley, and he's busy sympathising with me when I kiss him.

This isn't supposed to happen outside of soap operas -- in real life, people are supposed to respect other people's relationships. But this one time, I don't care about his lover. I want him to feel what I feel, to know that I care about him, to see if he cares about me.

After a moment, he kisses me back. His tongue slips between my lips and we wrap our arms around each other. It makes me feel safe, and it feels right.

'Si, I can't.'

'I know. You don't need to.'

He kisses me again anyway.

I remember the beginning, the beginning that was also the end. For a few perfect hours we were together, and then... I've never been entirely sure where things went after that. They disappeared. But not like they'd never happened. the mark of what happened between us is all over his life now, his secret gay life that isn't so secret any more. It's all over my life because I can't forget him, and I hope he can't forget me.

He slips an arm around my shoulders. I take one last look at the view and let him walk me back to camp.


End file.
